


Synesthesia

by Justme_iguess



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Juno and peter in love????, M/M, Other, Sad boi, Synesthesia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a lot of fluff, just me, projecting onto juno, what more do u need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 11:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justme_iguess/pseuds/Justme_iguess
Summary: I have synesthesia and so I wanted to see what I could do with Juno having it??? I mean he has a big thing about peters smell soo what esues is an indecent amount of fluff.Also oh god I'm so sorry I wrote this at 11:00 at night and its so fucking bad!





	Synesthesia

 

Rita is yellow, bright and violent and loud. Even through the comms, he can see the colors in his subconscious pulling at his mind. He used to hate that shade of yellow. Bright and neon, so violent and out of place that its only use is pushing an imprint into your eyes. Its as if it pricks needles into his brain, and tattoos itself there. But that's the thing, tattoos stay. They're there, and constant. Rita is always there. When she talks about her shows or movies, that once unnerving yellow becomes comforting.

She is always there, whether in the back of his mind, or talking so close that the color is bright and vivid. She is consistency in a world so absent of such a thing. In a world where an apartment complex covers an area, and in the next moment gone without a trace.

Gone without a trace. 

Peter Nureyev is blue. Soft, just lingering on the corners of his roots. When he sighs against Juno, it travels its way into his ears, and its the prettiest color he knows.

He tells Peter about the colors that come with every intellectual comment. Not willingly, of course. He accidently lets it slip when he and Nureyev are arguing. "God, if you don't stop being so goddamn purple!"

From then forth, Peter is aware. He knows that he can hear the colors. He knows that purple and green are angry colors. He sometimes puts on music, and ask what color it sounds like. Juno has had it in his mind everywhere, for so long in his life that, its just a natural part of him. He doesn't view it as anything special. It doesn't necessarily aid him in any way. Its not like he can hear a lie in people's voices just from colors, he has to be able to physically hear it. But when his lover gasps with excitement, he feels like he's something wonderful. Something special. When they meet someone new, as soon as they are left to themselves, he asks Juno what color their voices were.

At some point, they're laying against one another on a rickety bed. Juno's head is tucked into Peter's warm neck, with a hand twisting the curls on his scalp. There is the tune of soft music, barely noticeable, from when Peter made the grumpy detective stand up and dance to until they were exhausted. "Juno?"

He looks up at Peter as maroon and lavender dance in the edges of his view, then with a little burst of blue at Peter's voice . "Yeah?"

"What color would you say Mick Mercury's voice is?"

Juno thinks back to when he and Mick were stuck in that room together, bound to kill one or the other. "Orange, rustic I think. It was more yellow last time I saw him, 'cause  I think he was scared."

"Interesting."

"I still don't understand what you think is so cool about my synesthesia. I see colors. Big deal." he mumbles it with half his mind into Peter's chest. Its strange, touching him like this, without a care in the world. Not strange enough to be weird, but just different enough to be new.

Nureyev trails a hand against Juno. "Semantics, dear." he presses his face into his hair, and breathes. Juno cannot fathom why, he likely smells like alcohol. "You can see smells as well, can you not? You hardly make a big deal about it."

Juno shrugs, which is proven a little difficult to do in this position. "I can only smell colors when I try, if that makes sense."

"I haven't the faintest idea of how that would work, love."

Nureyev sits up a little, but lays back down when he has the cup of liquor from on the coffee table. "What color does this smell like?"

Juno straddles his hips, and sits up enough so that he can bring it to his nose. Peter traces the lines of his scars against his arm comfortingly. It makes him happy, feeling warm hands trace him.  
He breathes in the scent of the alcohol. "Kind of... A yellowish green? But like the colors aren't mixed together, you get me?"

His lover looks up at him a little strangely, eyes full of love and a tenderness that almost makes Juno want to pull away. "I wish I could, dear. But I know the way I think of it would be nothing in comparison to what you probably see."

"Yeah, well its a little weird." he downs the liquor, before setting it back on the table, and laying back down on Nureyev.

He hums underneath him contently. "I think I've neglected to ask you what color I sound like, darling."

Blues twinge at his vision. "You have, _darling_." he mocks. "Its blue.  A lot of different shades of blue. When you're happy, or you sound happy its light blue. When you're sad it has a little green in it. When you're angry there's more purple than blue."

"What about now?" he asks, with fondness in his voice.

Juno's breath is caught by the splash of pigments. "Navy blue, but its really vivid. Like I can almost actually see it."

Peter presses a hand to the back of Juno's neck, and he's proud to be on the receiving end of a kiss. Its long and drawn out, until Juno accidently lets out a blissful sigh against his lips.

"What color do i smell of?"

"Dull pink. Its real pretty, though."

He flips them over, until Juno is under him with his hands wrapped around Peter's neck, and hardly suppressing a smile. "Do you like the colors that in made up of?" he presses their foreheads together, and Juno lets out a breathless laugh.

It looks like Peter wants to say more, as if he wants to tell Juno a million things, but he can't bring himself to do so. So instead he indulges him with the assurance of fondness. "Of course I do. I didn't used to like that kind of pink, though."

He remembers when Rex Glass waltzed into his life, coming so close to him he felt his warmth and smelled that cologne. He never thought that kind of pink was pretty until then. When he kissed him, that was all he could see. That dull, beautiful, crisp pink was everywhere, so vibrant and full, it made Juno feel as though the other colors of the universe were nothing in comparison.

Peter leans down and kisses him again. There is a hand on his hip, and another resting again his cheek. And there is that pink again, beautiful as Peter Nureyev, or Rex Glass, or Christopher Morales, or whatever the fuck you wanted to call him. They're all the same man. This man that swept Juno off his feet like a beam of starlight, and takes him places that he had never known before. Places to fill his eye with wonder and beauty, with new smells, voices, and-most of all- colors. Its a new experience every day, and it makes him feel ways that he has never felt in his life.

So when they're done kissing, and Nureyev presses his face in Juno's collarbone, he sighs. For once in his life, he's finally happy. He never thought he'd get here, with a boyfriend as they traipse along the galaxies, with expensive dates, and meeting new strangers every day. It isn't always an easy thing. Being alive, being happy, but his always got peter there to tie him back down when he needs it.

"Juno Steel, I'm in love with you." the man above him sighs, a hot breath on his neck. Juno shivers.

"Peter Nureyev." his lips twitch into a smile, and he buries his face in his lover's shoulder. He laughs with the enormity of it all. "Shut up.


End file.
